


Radiosurgery.

by iwritestony



Series: Radiosurgery [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3b AU, M/M, Pre-Slash, So is Allison, lydia is the only sane one, scott is also crazy, stiles is crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritestony/pseuds/iwritestony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've broken down I'm a nervous wreck, my heart is beating right out of my chest. I can't get your face out of my head, I need radiosurgery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radiosurgery.

“Dude, I can’t transform,” Scott says with shaking hands held out in front of him to show Stiles. “I’m…I’m terrified if I do I won’t turn back.” 

Stiles watches his best friend struggle before him, and presses a comforting hand to his shoulder. “You’re gonna be fine,” he shook his head, “Scott, you can do this.” 

Scott takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he attempts to concentrate, but it’s no use. The tremors in his hands get worse and he huffs, opening his eyes and glaring at Stiles, frustrated. It wasn’t Stiles’ fault; it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. They all made the choice to take that plunge, and he wasn’t the only one suffering.

~

“Allison’s being haunted by her dead aunt,” Lydia tells Stiles over lunch one day. Scott is nowhere to be found, though with the full moon lurking just over the horizon, Stiles doesn’t really blame him. 

Lydia’s heels click loudly and she sets her tray down in front of Stiles, sliding into her seat in one graceful motion. And just like that, he was having lunch with Lydia. 

“You don’t say,” Stiles mutters down at his tray, he hasn’t gotten much sleep lately, but everyone has their own things, Stiles doesn’t want to bother them with his problems too.

She narrows her eyes, leaning forward to close in the conversation. “Are you alright?” She asks all sympathetic tones and sorrow.

“Fine,” Stiles replies, and he doesn’t mean to be short, especially not with Lydia, it isn’t her fault. He just can’t seem to focus, and he’s having trouble reading which is really getting in the way of his homework and just life in general. And the dreams he’s having, well no he doesn’t want to talk about those at all. 

Clearing her throat, Lydia straightens out and stabs her fork into her pasta with practiced ease. “Well,” she speaks before pressing the food into her mouth, careful not to smudge her lipstick, bright red as always. She sips at her water before continuing, “I just thought you should know, because I think it has something to do with the little stunt you three pulled.”

Stiles tenses, knowing exactly which stunt Lydia is talking about. 

“Are you experiencing anything out of the ordinary?” 

“I’m fine,” Stiles repeats himself, but his shoulders are stiff as a board, and he’s suddenly lost his appetite. He does something he’s never, in a million years, imagined he’d ever do. He gathers up his things, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder and mutters something about getting to class early before grabbing his tray and leaving Lydia alone in at the table without another word.

~

When it comes down to it, the reading is what affects Stiles the most. He can’t seem to get a grip on it, no matter how hard he tries, the words are just a jumble of letters and misunderstandings. The pencil in his hand snaps and simultaneously snaps Stiles out of the frustrated haze he found himself in.

Maybe it was time for a break from studying, or at least attempting to study. It was almost an hour in and Stiles couldn’t make out a single word. Was this another dream? Lately, Stiles wasn’t sure what was a dream and what was real. He was really starting to worry.

Stiles nearly got whiplash when he heard his window sliding open. He was out of his desk chair and beside his bed, bat in hand, in an instant. It didn’t matter though, when he saw who it was sneaking into his room at nearly midnight.

“Derek…?” Stiles asked, breathless as the panic began to drain from his body. His grip on the bat slipped, and it came to a crash. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, voice gruff as usual. He was careful not to knock anything over as he stepped down into Stiles’ bedroom for the first time in a long time.

“What are you doing here…where have you been?” There were so many questions, and it seemed like they were all to remain unanswered as Derek took a few steps further into the room.

Stiles watched with worried eyes as Derek came closer and closer until he could feel nothing more than Derek’s body heat radiating off of the other. Derek cupped Stiles’ face with his hands, one on each cheek, thumbing just below Stiles’ eyes. 

“Stiles,” Derek repeated, leaning down and pressing their lips together for the first time. ‘

It had been so long, so so long. How long had Stiles known Derek? Because that’s how long he’d wanted this kiss, but Stiles couldn’t read, and he was sure all the clatter upstairs would have had his father stirring enough to come check up on him. Stiles pulled back, earning a hurt look from the werewolf in front of him.

“Get out,” Stiles said, pulling back completely. 

“Stiles,” Derek repeated, as if it were the only word he knew. 

“Get out of my room, get out of my head!” Stiles shouted, pointing to the window. 

Derek didn’t budge. So he bent down, taking his eyes off of the other for one moment to grab the baseball bat to the floor, and when he stood back up to swing, Derek was gone.

“Wake up,” Stiles started, calmly at first. “Wake up, Stiles. Please please wake up…” Then more frantic he continued to shout. “Wake up! Wake up, Stiles! Wake up!”

“Stiles!” 

The boy shot up from where he’d fallen asleep at his desk, a piece of paper stuck to his cheek and a snapped pencil in his hand. His father was at his right, his hand gripping Stiles’ shoulder tight, as Stiles blinked rapidly looking around the room.

The baseball bat was right where he left it, his window was closed with no trace of Derek at all. At his desk were notes, completely comprehensible notes that just a few moments ago Stiles couldn’t read. And most importantly, the Sheriff was at his right, talking him through his panic, calming him down with soothing words and reminders that he was okay. That he was safe.

“I’m okay,” Stiles said after a long time, his hand patting his father’s. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, not feeling completely confident.

Stiles looked him over, all dressed in his uniform, ready for the night shift at work. “I’m sure, Dad, get to work. You don’t want to be late.”

With a soft huff, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his son’s head. “Get some rest, would you? And try to take it easy.”

“Promise,” Stiles said with a nod. “I’ll call you if anything happens.”

With a nod, the sheriff was out the door. Stiles didn’t move until he heard the car pull out of the driveway. 

The worst part wasn't that Stiles was afraid, because he wasn't. He wasn’t terrified of becoming an uncontrollable monster, like Scott. He wasn’t haunted like Allison, the guilt of her aunt’s death eating her up and spitting her out. Stiles felt completely safe inside his head, protected by the one person he knew would save him, every time.

And when Stiles woke up alone night after night? Well that was definitely the worst part.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in a series of fourteen fics all based around the album 'Radiosurgery' by New Found Glory. This fic in particular is based on this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BNYgeSKu8gQ so go ahead and give it a listen if you'd like.
> 
> Let me know what you think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
